


At the Pier

by pollitt



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt Me! ficlet for CatHeights, who asked for <i>Arthur/Eames, Navy Pier</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Pier

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Maverick and Data for cracking their whips so I posted this baby

“For the last time Eames, where are we going?” Arthur asked, stepping in closer to Eames as a family pushed by him.

“Patience is a virtue, Arthur dear.” Eames slid a casual hand to the small of Arthur’s back and maneuvered them both through the crowds of people and the shop carts that filled the pier’s lakeside walk.

“I might have more patience if you hadn’t dragged me from the comfort of our hotel room, where it was quiet and there were not thousands of people wearing matching clothing and cameras and fanny packs _and_ wielding various sticky foods.” 

As if on cue, a member of the under-10 set, having broken free from his family, ran past them--churro in hand--and left a streak of cinnamon and sugar along Arthur’s thigh.

“Don’t even think about saying anything,” Arthur said, looking sidelong at Eames. “Just, don’t.”

“That’s the furthest thing from my mind.” Eames looked for an exit from the madness, and, upon spotting one, pointed at a gap in the crowd. “This way.”

They pushed through the crowds and came through on the other side toward the open air shops and a stand selling honey roasted almonds, which Eames ordered a bag of from the small man working behind the corner.

“Five dollars, sir,” the man said, handing Eames his food as Eames produced a gray wallet from his coat pocket.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Arthur asked in a hushed tone. “That’s not yours.”

“Come now Arthur, of course it is,” Eames said smoothly, and handed Arthur the almonds as he paid the bill.

“Whose is it, Eames?” Arthur asked again when they were out of earshot of the food cart.

“Judging by the identification, someone born with an unfortunate name,” Eames said, looking inside the wallet. “And judging from his attire today--which included a fanny pack, I believe you called it--someone who deserved to be relieved of his petty cash.”

“Please don’t tell me that this little outing has just been a way for you to get some practice in?” Arthur stopped mid-stride and stared at Eames.

“Don’t be silly. That’s not the only reason.” 

“And the other reason is?”

“If you’d just stop talking, and resumed walking, the other reason will be revealed very shortly. I promise.” Eames’s hand found its way back to the small of Arthur’s back.

Arthur turned quickly and Eames’s arm was effectively wrapped loosely around his waist. It was a move that would’ve made Fred and Ginger proud, if it had been planned that way. “Eames.”

“Arthur.” Eames voice was low and he used his free hand to press a finger against Arthur’s lips. “Please?”

Whatever it was that Arthur heard in Eames’s voice, or saw on his face, [he turned serious and compliant.] He nodded once and Eames smiled. “Thank you.”

Arthur let Eames lead the way as they wound their way through progressively smaller crowds, every so often catching a snippet of conversation here and there with words that included “closed” and “don’t want to come back tomorrow,” and soon they were back in the open air and Arthur found his eyes landing on the main attraction.

“It’s closed,” a woman said to Arthur as she saw him staring at the still ferris wheel. “Or at least it’s not open to the public. That’s what the attendant said. Can you believe that?”

Arthur looked sidelong at Eames but didn’t answer her.

“Shall we?” Eames asked, extending his hand forward, as if he were a presenter.

“What did you do? That would take a lot of picked pockets. Or did Saito lose another game of poker?”

“Neither,” Eames said, walking up to the ferris wheel attendant and producing his real wallet this time. “I believe you’ve been waiting for us, my good man.” 

The ferris wheel operator looked at Eames’s ID and then handed it back. “Why you’d want to rent out the whole this is beyond me, but hey, it’s your money,” he said, leading the men to the first gondola.

“My partner here is not one for crowds.” Eames flashed a smile and slipped a bill with two zeros visible into the breast pocket of the attendant. “Thank you for your indulgence.”

“Anytime, sir.” The operator smiled as Arthur and then Eames climbed into the gondola. Once they were secured in, the operator returned to his seat and started the ride.

When they’d reached the top, the gondola stopped and they looked out over the city. 

Arthur slid his hand into his jacket pocket and felt for the die he knew were there. He rolled them in his hand, feeling the worn corners and the familiar divots, because looking out over the city... it was almost like a dream. 

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Eames asked, sliding his arm over Arthur’s shoulder. 

Arthur leaned in an kissed Eames, letting the die fall back into his pocket so he could cup Eames’s face.

They were still kissing when the wheel started to turn again.


End file.
